Temptation
by chi1986
Summary: Set preseries. Albert has a bit too much wine and Franz is given a bit too much time to think. Temptation sets in despite his best efforts. [FranzxAlbert]


**Notes:** Ah, I have not written a fan fiction in… quite sometime, so apologies if this isn't all that great. Also first time writing Franz… I feel far more comfortable with Albert, I think. ; This is only one chapter long and there probably won't be anymore unless someone actually cares to see it, haha. 

Disclaimer: Gankutsuou is © Gonzo. None of the characters belong to me, clearly. ;

Even in his wildest dreams, Franz had never dared to entertain the thought of touching _him_. Never once had he attempted to reach out a hand to smooth back locks of dark hair he was sure had to be silken to the touch while the other slept. And oh, had there ever been so many chances to do just that. Never once, not even one time, had Franz ever dared to entertain the thought that his best friend would ever allow him the pleasure to be as close as his twisted desires yearned to be.

But that was fine. He was disgusting for wanting that. And Franz could be content just being close to Albert. He could find solace in being the boy's best friend, inseparable as they were. He could satisfy the side of him that yearned to touch, to kiss, with each accidental brush of their limbs his friend gave him while Franz made very sure that he never even so much as strayed too close if he could help it. It was a guilty feeling, every time he stole a touch for himself.

There might have been a part of Franz… a very small part of him that loved this forbidden love. It was scandalous, immoral, but the way Albert smiled, his naiveté and honesty, even the way he looked when he first woke sent a thrill through his body, made his heart – no his entire body feel so incredibly warm. It had to be love… the cheer he felt, the appreciation he experienced just to be in the other's presence. It wasn't just some base desire for his friend's body.

Of course… that was a bit debatable right now as he lay, pinned beneath the boy's sleeping, vulnerable form. Franz felt torn, pulled in two different directions; one cursed Albert for sneaking out with wine to their hide-out, the other thanked whatever merciful God allowed him to get away with it.

Albert had, predictably, gotten louder with each glass he had (And he'd certainly had the most), and touchier as he was prone to do. As the night wore on, Franz's friend, his beloved Albert, had decided that he would make a fine pillow and crawled on top of him. Franz had protested, of course. He had done everything in his power to get the boy to move from the position his body found much too agreeable. In the end, it clearly hadn't worked and Franz had found himself with this… perfect sense of peace and relaxation settling in and he hadn't the strength to push his friend aside.

So Franz found himself pinned beneath the warm, slight weight. Albert looked even younger as he slept. Lips were parted as he took quiet breaths, expression entirely relaxed with whatever pleasant dreams he had to be having. It was such sweet torture. Perhaps he was a bit of a masochist… allowing Albert to stay in this position (and using the excuse that he just didn't want to wake him). He was so close and yet much too far away to reach in the way Franz wanted.

The love he felt had grown so gradually. He had slowly become so enamored with this truthful, innocent boy in his arms that he couldn't have stopped it even if he'd wanted… couldn't have possibly noticed where his feelings were heading until it was much too late. He didn't regret it often. How could he ever bring himself to regret loving someone like Albert? Even if it was troublesome and hurtful so very often.

His will to not touch was gradually breaking as they lay together. Didn't he deserve just a quick brush of fingers through his hair? Hadn't he earned just a moment to be unguarded around his friend who would never know about this? Of course not, that was a terrible way to justify what he was doing. Still Franz lifted a trembling hand and despite the chant of 'wrong' going off in his head, he slowly traced the other's sleeping face, fingertips brushing the soft, warm skin. Albert was still flushed from wine and Franz found himself tracing the reddened skin. He had decided long ago, that even if he could, he would not give up the feelings he harbored for his friend. Albert gave his life meaning… it gave him the will to get up in the mornings when he otherwise might not be able to. Albert gave him a reason to be strong — and also, apparently, a reason to be weak as well as evident in his wandering hands.

No matter how genuine his love for Albert was, it was still wrong. Each day, Franz disgraced his family's name. How could he be in love with another man? His best friend? But whether it be because of wine or just because he was alone, Franz didn't care. He just… didn't care about how sinful it was when Albert's warmth was pressed against him so intimately. He didn't care how baffling it was trying to convince himself that any form of love could be truly terrible. He especially couldn't concentrate on the scandalous nature of his feelings when he was able to trace over parted lips and somehow earn a quiet moan.

Smiling to himself, Franz tucked his head in close to the other's, rubbing his cheek against the other one. His skin felt chill in comparison to the warmth Albert gave off… and oh, the thoughts it brought! Franz was young and male after all… it was only natural to imagine how wonderful those lips would feel against his own—how much warmth his body had to offer. It was a pity that he would never get the chance to explore it. How happy he would be though, to feel Albert as close as two humans could ever hope to be. To be lost within his body, to feel it pressed against his so tightly so that it would be nearly impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

Suppressing a wanton groan, Franz's face found Albert's neck, his arms tightening almost mechanically to compact the slighter form even closer. It was wrong to derive joy from this, wasn't it? From any of it.

Sick, depraved, immoral, wrong… and so on as the old, familiar chant went. Oh, but how could any of it be when it felt _right_? When, if given even the slightest bit of encouragement, Franz was not sure if he could resist claiming his best friend for himself. Suddenly unable to contain his thoughts, his longings, his _happiness_, Franz began to speak softly, "Albert… it's pathetic you have to be drunk and passed out for me to get the courage, huh?"

Giving a soft laugh, Franz tightened his hold even further. His heart drummed in his chest so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. He felt a certain anxiousness… a fear of some sort. He both wanted Albert to wake up, to listen, and he was terrified of what he would do if that really did happen. "You're beautiful when you sleep. You're warm and pretty soft — you make a great blanket, you know… And I can never say it, any of this, to your face, Albert, but…"

His voice shook and it took him a long time to actually force out the next few words as his breath tangled in his throat; he hadn't the courage for this… But eventually, eyes squeezed tightly shut, he spat it out quickly as if pulling off a bandage—the quicker it comes off (or out, as it were), the less it had to hurt. "I love you… do you know I really don't know what I would do without you?"

And for a long time, Franz was sure he would die as silence hung in the air. He tricked himself into believing that Albert really was awake in his arms (Had the boy suddenly grown tenser at his confession?), but after a few moments that seemed like an eternity to poor Franz, his answer came in the form of a loud snore.

And with that, whatever hopes tainted with fear that had bubbled up quickly subsided, let out in an almost broken laugh. Franz was… glad, in a way… really. He would lose Albert if his friend ever knew the true depth of his feelings… and he would sooner die than lose his beloved Albert from his life.

So ignoring the almost unbearable pain in his chest, that seemed to even stifle his ability to breathe, Franz's hands dropped (It wasn't his place to touch Albert in such a way and the guilt was starting to catch up). Soon enough, or perhaps it had been another hour or so – Franz couldn't quite tell – he had joined his friend in a slumber that was anything but restful for him.

Ah, but Albert was at his side, so life was still good – even if things weren't exactly the way he wanted them to be.

_ Finished _


End file.
